


Distress of the Moment

by Anonymous



Category: Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms, Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, M/M, One Shot, entirely based on that one chapter in volume 3 of P&P where lizzy is sad for like 2 paragraphs, my first fanfic yikes, very probably ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 23:44:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15376014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Post Pemberley, things are finally returning to normal in the Bennet household. Without Lydia to worry about, Lizzy is finally alone with her thoughts.





	Distress of the Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! This is my first (and I'm afraid not terribly fantastic) fanfic and so any constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated!! :) I've genderswapped Jane and Darcy without much reason other than For the Hell of It and Lizzy is very probably ooc, but please humor me

It made Elizabeth sick, frankly, thinking about her.

For the past few days, she had felt like crying, laughing, and screaming all at once; she felt awful without being able (or willing) to articulate why. A week or two ago, she could’ve written off these moods as concern for (or even anger at) her youngest sister. But now that Lydia was back—without any consequences to attend to, _of course_ —and equilibrium more or less restored to the Bennet household, she was starting to run out of excuses.

Nearly every day since Lydia’s return, Elizabeth had spent a good half hour pouring over her past text conversations with Darcy. She heartily regretted every jab, every bit of barbed wit which, even when she had thought the worst of Darcy, in hindsight seemed unfair and unjustifiable. Lizzy had left Darcy’s last message—an absurdly kind (and grammatically perfect) note about the Lydia Situation and a generous offer to help if there was anything she could possibly do—unanswered. Eight times Elizabeth had opened up iMessage to type out a response, and eight times the screen had faded to black, Lizzy at a loss for words as the cursor blinked impatiently at her before finally giving up.

She and Darcy... It was useless (even harmful) to hope, now that they were worse than strangers. But, really, what could she do? Text “hey, so sorry about calling you a heartless, selfish, asshole and assuming you purposefully fucked up the lives of everyone around you!!”? (She was tempted to.)

She was being silly, she told herself, caring so damn much about the opinion of one Darcy Fitzwilliam.

Lizzy couldn’t get over the sickening irony of missing the one person in the world she was least likely to ever see again, and just as that person stopped liking her altogether. But if she felt like shit, she couldn’t even begin to comprehend how James, who had much more reason to hope and much less conduct to reprimand himself for, felt.

On good days, it was more mildly distressing if anything. Of Darcy’s declaration-turned-confrontation she could scarce forget, but other than groan into her pillow late at night as her brain insisted on looping that moment, there wasn’t much she could do. She was, and would always be, adamant that she didn’t regret turning Darcy down when she had, but the words she had used and the weakness of mind she had displayed with her faulty accusations made her burn with shame.

On other days, she’d sit with a book (re: staring at strings of words uncomprehendingly) and observe the household antics. A few months ago, when she had thought Lydia capable of no worse than overdramatized boy problems, she could have amusedly imagined Darcy’s bewilderment at her immature gripes, or even at Mary’s more subdued but equally entertaining-slash-mortifying sermonizing. Watching her second youngest sister, Lizzy suspected that Kat would’ve gotten along famously with Darcy’s sister, Ana Fitzwilliam.

More painful recollections inevitably intruded. Darcy had called Lizzy’s sisters an embarrassment, claimed that Mr. Bennet was (at best) an ineffective and indifferent father, and said that her mother was worse than an attention-seeking teen girl and would, in all probability, single-handedly ruin any opportunities that came Lizzy and James’s way.

Lizzy had hardly been any better. She was consumed by self-reprehension when she recalled how easily and unfeelingly she had brushed off Darcy’s distress over coming out, and the jolt of guilt she felt then (and many times after) after realizing that she, Lizzy, was the first and possibly only person Darcy had ever been comfortable enough to tell.

But last summer, things had been different. Darcy had been different. Lizzy had noticed an air of apology about her; an anxiousness to regain her good opinion even if only as a friend. On occasion, she even flattered herself that there had been something more in Darcy’s smiles, like a lingering fondness that had foolishly planted hope. Had things turned out differently, maybe these memories would have been gratifying rather than agonizing. Maybe Lizzy could have loved her.

There were times Elizabeth wished (childish and unfair and she knew it was) that she had never run into Darcy again. Then, at the very least, she could’ve had the gratification of hating her.

In any case, Elizabeth Bennet was not formed for melancholy. With time (she hoped more than believed) she could learn to become indifferent.


End file.
